An Eye for an Eye
by Athena2693
Summary: AU. Virgil Hawkins is basically a hired hit man in a nondescript land of poverty. When he gets bored, he kills people for fun. A bit of slash near the end.


Title: Eye for an Eye

Author: Athena2693

Rating: R for violence (I'm not switching to that damn new system!)

A/N: I've been rereading Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner a lot lately, and I didn't even bother to try to hide that. Don't ask.

Summary: AU. Virgil Hawkins is basically a hired hit man in a nondescript land of poverty. When he gets bored, he kills people for fun. A bit of slash near the end. No set time or place.

Virgil Hawkins held his sword in the air, the burning sun glazing against the sleek metal. Lowering the weapon and resting the flat edge against his knee, he spit on a dull spot and rubbed it with his thumb. From his seat behind his sister's bread stand, safe from accusations of thievery and loitering, he watched the crowds of dusty men and women and children hurrying before him. Sharon was haggling the price of a loaf of zucchini bread with an old woman. Virgil tucked his sword back in his sheath and rested his chin in his palm.

Business had been slow lately. Of course, it was hard to advertise an illegal business. Virgil was not a swordsman. He didn't follow the rules of the nobles. He didn't challenge for a master and kill whoever took up the challenge. He had trained with fellows like that, and half the time they wouldn't get paid because somebody else had taken the challenge and the patrons weren't willing to pay up.

He came during the night. And it wasn't always a kill. Sometimes it was thievery, arson, or kidnapping (though it was never kidnapping so much as stealing away a young maiden to meet her lover).

But he hadn't had any jobs in two straight weeks now, and he was getting antsy. Antsy to kill. Usually, a burning or a steal could hold him over. But it had been too long now. He missed the sight of bad blood on his steel.

It was always bad blood. He had a sense for it. He could tell who needed killing for wronging someone in an unforgivable way, and who was just a victim of a bastard money tosser. The law couldn't be counted on for always working on the right side.

At this point, he was thinking he might go ahead and break his own rule.

Hell, he was hungry enough to see that red, he might just find the nearest man who looked at him wrong and just run him right through.

The young man shook his head at the thought. He'd never let himself go through with that.

"Uh oh, looks like they caught a thief," Sharon smirked from her place leaning against the cracked wooden counter. "He's a young one too."

"Are they taking him to the block?" Virgil climbed lazily to his feet and strolled the few feet to stand next to her sister. He preferred to stay in the back, leaning against the brick sidewall of the bar their stand sat next too, where the building blocked the sun from his eyes.

But he was always willing to go into the sun for a few minutes to watch a chopping. He left Sharon behind at the stand, knowing full well that she wished she could go watch up with the crowds, but would have to stay back by the stand and just gaze from afar.

It was always fun to watch one of the young arrogant toughies. That hadn't learned yet, like the older men, to avert their eyes when the time came, and they always cursed and threatened the men who held him. Not that it ever changed things. They were losing their hand if they liked it or not.

Virgil shrugged his way through the crowd, forcing his way to the front of the crowd so he was almost standing on the first step to the platform. The young man was trying desperately to get away from the large, bulky men. He was surrounded so that there was no chance of escaping. One of the men pushed him down to his knees. The boy was crying out for mercy, like they often did, though he wasn't threatening or cursing them. Very unusual for such a young boy. Virgil had not yet seen his face. The boy was facing so that his back was to the crowd, and all they could see was a head of extremely bright yellow hair sticking out all over the place. When they finally turned him around, still kneeling, Virgil was shocked to see tears on the boy's face. He had never seen anybody; man, woman, or child, cry on the block. A man Virgil recognized as owning a stand not far from their own stood before the crowd, bare inches away from the blond boy.

"This boy has stolen from me an entire box of salted fish," he announced loudly and somewhat maniacally, as old-time venders always were never quite right in the head after living in this town for so many years. "He shall receive the punishment due to a thief!"

"Please, don't," the blond cried out pathetically, his face shining with tears under the midday sun. "I won't do it again! I was hungry!"

That explained the rags. The boy wasn't a thief; he was probably a beggar not doing so well in these lean times. And that was enough of a reason for Virgil to take the first step up onto the platform.

"Release him!"

"Who are you?" One of the other bulky men asked, sneering, but with a trace of humor in his voice.

"I said release him," he hadn't even realized he had drawn his sword until he saw the glint of the sun against the blade, blinding him barely with the brightness of it. He lowered it just slightly, so that it didn't glare against him, and so that it looked more threatening, like a warning that he'd actually drive it through one of the men's gut.

"And we're supposed to just release a thief because a scrawny little darkie tells me to?" This time, it was the man with the knife he spoke. He hadn't yet spoken, and of course, when he did, he chose to use a racist insult. Darkie was the term used for a breed of horse most often used in this land, since they were all a sort of deep brown/blackish blend, and had been used as an insult to Virgil's people since they first immigrated to the land centuries ago. They had come to the land on their own, after draught struck their own land across the sea, and with their different beliefs, low class, and obvious differences, were right away chosen as scapegoats for social discontent. Until recently, the differences between them had almost faded, but after the last war that brought mass poverty and death, the hate had begun to rise again.

"I might be scrawny, but at least I don't look like a brick was dropped on my face," Virgil replied with a cynical grin. That was enough to get the lumbering ass to take a swing at him. Virgil jumped to the side, one step up, and with one lunge, had thrust the sword deep into the man's large gut. When he pulled it out, it was coated in streaky blood. He grinned at the man, who just stared at him as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, trying to keep his own blood in. Virgil knew from experience that stomach wounds were the worst. It might be days before the man died. That's why he had chosen it.

Of course, one kill wasn't enough to convince the men to consider him a threat. The other three came towards him at once, while the fourth just held the blond boy down, watching with an ugly smile. He thought Virgil would lose. That's why it was better to be a criminal; only swordsmen had reputations on how good or bad they were. The boy just looked at him, his eyes still wet, but attempting a shaky smile for Virgil's sake. When he smiled, the boy was almost pretty. No, not almost, definitely.

Virgil took the three men easily. The crowd didn't bother to try to interrupt. This was much more entertaining than a chopping. And the law didn't hang around on the bad side of the market. Not unless they were looking for someone specifically. He stabbed the first one in the heart. The second he cut across the stomach, not thrusting the sword straight in, but slicing it across so that only a small like of blood appeared beneath the sliced cloth for a second, then it opened and all the inner parts of the human body came tumbling out. The third, he went for the head, attempting to cut it clean off, but he didn't quite take off the whole thing and it flapped as he fell with a flesh hinge. With blood smeared across his cheeks and splattering his clothes, Virgil looked towards the last man. He looked down at the other men, then back up at Virgil. With a forced smile, he let go of the boy and pushed himself to his feet, taking a few steps back.

"See, I let him go," he took another step back, "I have nothing to fight with now. I don't even have a knife." Another step back. Too far back. He tumbled down the back steps of the platform, landing on his butt. Virgil ignored him and went to help the boy to his feet.

"Thank you," he blessed Virgil with that smile. "I won't do it again, I promise."

"I don't work for the lords," Virgil assured him, walking down the front stairs with him. The crowd was starting to disperse now, heading off in their separate ways, some probably going off to inform family members that they had to go pick up their dead kin. "Just stay away from Hawkins Bread and we're good."

"I won't go near it."

"But still…I am a murderer for hire. I deserve some sort of payment, don't you suppose?"

The blond for the first time noticed that Virgil had led him down the ally between one of the laundries and the tailor. He looked back over Virgil's shoulder towards the sunlight.

"I don't have anything to give."

"I know you don't have any money. I'm not asking for money."

"You wouldn't, you wouldn't dare-"

Virgil shook his head, chuckling a bit, until he realized that the boy was actually afraid he was about to be raped. His face softened as he gazed upon him.

"No, I would never force that on someone. Just a kiss, please? Isn't a kiss worth four deaths?"

"Well, I suppose," he didn't appear nearly so frightened anymore, and was actually blushing a bit, when he realized that Virgil wasn't looking at him like he was an easy piece of ass, but was actually interested in him as an individual.

He closed his eyes and felt a soft, dry kiss against his lips, and that was it. So gentle, it was almost like a whisper of touch. He heard footsteps walking away.

"Are you leaving?"

"I have to get back to my place. I'm waiting for customers."

"What if I want to see you again?"

"Just stop by at Hawkins Bread, if I'm not there, tell my sister and she'll pass on the message."

"Alright then. Goodbye, I guess."

Virgil turned to leave once more, then stopped, and turned back to ask him one more question before he left the ally.

"By the way, what's your name?"

"Richie. Richie Foley."


End file.
